Fallen
by SeeInBlackAndWhite
Summary: Part 2/2 up! Fullmetal is acting strangely tonight, his small naked body limpid on his side across Roy's bed. His voice is melancholy and he keeps giving that tiny smile that isn’t happy or sad. RoyEd Part 2/2 Up!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I do suppose this story is rather angst-y but I do hate that word it's more like…well a surreal dream^^

Fullmetal is acting strangely tonight, his small naked body limpid on his side across Roy's bed. His voice is melancholy and he keeps giving that tiny smile that isn't happy or sad. In the pale moonlight of early night he seems very soft, feminine almost, but he's strong and Roy knows it. "You look lost tonight," he says in an almost childishly simple tone, his pink tongue darting out to wet lips that still smile blandly.

"I'm not lost," Roy replies, kneeling on the bed before him, his eyes laugh but Roy reaches out to finger a strand of his damp hair anyway. As annoyed as he looks he doesn't pull away and Roy won't back down either.

"Lonely then, Fuhrer Mustang?" He appreciates the title as much as Roy does even if he abuses it with shallow sarcasm. Roy's mouth forms a familiar smirk.

"Why would I be lonely? I have everything in the world." His hair slithers from pale fingers like a snake through grass, leaving a residue that dries and is forgotten quickly.

"Someone to love?" Shimmering gold rolls up at the ceiling, avoiding Mustang's gaze. That's alright; he avoids the question with a harsh bark of laughter that holds no real meaning. Fullmetal flops unceremoniously onto his back; his hair covers the pillow like a gold fiery halo, beautiful and dangerous. In the white glow he reminds Roy of a fallen angel, broken without wings. The dreamlike smile returns and he reaches his hands towards the sky, grasping for something just beyond reach. Well oiled machinery glints as a sword in the face of an enemy. It snakes over Roy's shoulder, tender in an off-color way. "Tonight you could love me." Cold fingers rub gently against the back of the Fuhrer's neck. Love him? Roy doesn't think he would know how to love anyone. "I wonder what it feels like, sometimes, to be in love, to make love. Is it really so different from regular sex? Or do people just kid themselves, blinded with the thought of love?" To him everything's a question with an answer, Roy admires that. His smile does look sad now, where it didn't before. "I'd never know if it was the same thing, because no matter how well we pretend, you don't love me." He retrieves his arm, drawing back inward, his previous position was much less open, he returns to it. "So why is it me? There are hundreds of people, men or women that would gladly spend nights with you. So why are you screwing me?" He watches alertly but his flesh hand fiddles with a loose string on the comforter anxiously. "Is it because I'm convenient? I'm right there is you want an office quickie, right? Make's things easy for you." Undeniably strange.

"You make me sound like some sort of monster," Roy says, stretching to touch him but snatching the offer away when he flinches. "Would you like to stop? The door's open." He purses his lips before shaking his head.

"No, I like it when you fuck me."

"Good, I enjoy fucking you too." The sentence feels foreign on his tongue, even unpleasant because vulgarity shouldn't fit this conversation the way it seems to. Almost like trying to repair tenderness they never had, Roy tells him, "You are beautiful." He glances at his automail; quickly enough that it's almost lost and grunts disbelievingly. The words aren't like him, or them, to begin with so he drops it where it lay.

"Do you think making love is like a mug of hot chocolate?" He starts again. "Warm and sweet, the kind of thing you pine for on cold lonesome days." Roy doesn't answer again; he doesn't think Fullmetal's looking for an answer. "Well, I suppose I'll never know." The way he says that is rather heartbreaking, someone who's missed out on so much else in life should have the chance to be in love. "And tonight, you can just fuck me like usual. Or we can get drunk like last night." Roy shakes his head, without meaning and thinks that maybe he's already had something to drink. With a heavy sigh he falls onto his stomach, lifting the bottom halves of his legs and wiggling his toes like a child. His chin rests in his palms, a smooth pinkie playing thoughtfully with his pouting bottom lip. "I wonder how Al's doing tonight." His legs scissor back and forth, he just can't stay still. "I wonder a lot," he chuckles, tipping his head back to look at Roy and _he _wonders if Fullmetal's eating right. "You're talkative tonight." His cheeks look a little hollow, but maybe it's just the moon.

"You're doing all the talking." Roy touches his soft face, stroking an empurpled bag beneath a large golden, cat-like eye.

"Yeah, I am," he sighs again, returning his gaze to the window. The whole situation has a sort of surreal dreamlike feel to it and for a brief second Roy thinks he just might be dreaming. But, no, the curve of Fullmetal's back is too concise and the chip in the port of his automail arm is too much a minute detail. "It's just so quiet tonight, it's almost like I have to fill up the silence with all of this meaningless stuff." He shrugs; his eyes look much farther than what can be seen through Roy's bedroom window. "You said you have everything you need, so, are you happy?" Again Roy's not answering his question and this time he notices it's evasion but says nothing of it; he really is talking for the sake of sound. Fuhrer Mustang lifts a hand to his hip, rubbing a thumb against the smooth skin there before tracing a fine, white scar upwards.

"It's getting late," he points out no really sure what the point is but Fullmetal nods and he shifts again, once more on his back.

"I thought you'd start getting twitchy soon." Slowly, he reaches out a hand to draw Roy closer and somewhere deep down the older man wants to stop him, to tell him it's not necessary tonight. But that changes too much, would carry the awkwardness of this evening too far and instead he allows himself to be tugged into a kiss. Not derived of feeling entirely simply distant and uncomplicated.

Roy takes a second to pull back slightly. Edward, yes, a very strange fallen angel indeed.

As always thanks for reading, and if you chose to, writing.

SeeInBlackAndWhite


	2. Chapter 2

The air is chilly against his skin, still hot and slightly flushed from the extraneous act of sex. There is very little light about the room but he rolls over anyway to look as closely as he can at his partner, lover is much too informal a word for their _agreement. _His porcelain skin has an eerie glow to it basked in moonlight somehow nowhere near as white as he is. Edward sighs quietly, not daring yet to touch only to watch the rise and fall of his strong, scarred chest. It's been long enough that Edward guesses he's asleep but there's no way to tell without speaking and for this one peaceful moment he isn't willing to break the silence. Roy has been silent as ever tonight, holding fast the shield of smugness around the man that had to be hiding somewhere far beneath. _I have everything in the world. _Roy's words had seemed hollow then as they did now, watching a man who did have everything but nothing.

Fuhrer Mustang. He'd gotten all of the things he desired, from the seemingly impossible to the menial and deprived; yet here he is snoring softly in the dead of night being pitied by just another lost soul that couldn't help but love this broken man. Maybe it is physical. But no, physical attraction wouldn't have his chest aching, wouldn't have his eyes begging to leak and certainly he would not be reaching slowly to brush the tip of a pointedly flesh finger across the curve of Roy's forehead. Tonight, though, tonight he knows there is no hope.

Silently Edward had cried out to him, a pathetic and wane call that almost of a dying animal and been answered by a wall of cold, unfeeling protection. A smile curves Ed's lips as it has many times that evening; it has no real meaning his own form of protection. He swivels his gaze briefly from the exquisite marble statue before him to the window. There is less of the moon now, a part of it covered in unfriendly shadow from a low hanging cloud, it hovers dark and menacing and Ed almost feels he can relate to the atomized being. On the other hand there is no similarity, he finds, and the thought twists his mouth into a frown, tugging often used muscles into a familiar face.

There is no way, he knows, to make them both happy like this. There is no way to make either of them happy in this. He looks back to the Fuhrer, gaze still unhappy though met by that lovely sight, his face is a whole kind of peaceful Edward never gets to see in waking hours. It's nice, but not enough to pull a smile for the positive is over-weighted by the wonder of whether or not he's a part of the reason there is no peace in those dark eyes when they open. Edward slides a metal hand back through his knotted hair, not even caring about how it catches in the joints.

Deep, he thinks, the troubled water about his mind is deep, unfathomably so and unless he swims he will drown. Every night is just another breath of harsh water, ripping his lungs to tatters in its wrathful wake, another step towards ultimate destruction. A sound before him draws his attention and he holds his breathe expecting nothing yet always awaiting something. Roy was simply shifting, getting more comfortable on his large bed. Edward wonders if it would feel empty were he gone, he wonders if there will be any damage in the parting or if it will simply be passed by as another bump in the road of man who 'has everything'.

His eyes want to leak again but he refuses to allow it, he's not allowed to be upset over his own decision whether it is right or not. He thinks not, leaning over Roy's face his hair tumbling down forcing him to pull back to keep from waking the man beneath him. There is a kind of pain in him that he can't quite describe, heavy and clenching the jaws of despair shred him. But he closes his eyes and really focuses, remembers the casual 'The door's open' and knows the hope of love is simply a hope he has clung to for far too long and the last thread hanging is fraying. This is for the best, for both of them.

Edward leans forward just a little farther to press a kiss, soft and fleeting to his perfect statue, hard and cold just as one should be. There is regret in his lips, there is sorrow and unyielding doubt but his mind is made up and it his turn to stands firm and steady; and while he not calm and his fingers shake, there is little left to do but gather his things and leave.

-There is no sleep yet in his veins, and his eyelids flutter slightly with the effort of staving off blinks. Edward has been restless beside him and the touch of lips is almost disconcerting. Tender has never been Edward, nor has it ever been them. He allows his eyes to flick open at the weight lifting from his bed. Edward's back, scarred and strong, is to him and he bends over and comes up slacks cinched around his waist. It hits him, what is happening as Edward slips back into his shirt and Roy only wishes he'd taken one more opportunity to get a good look. His blonde companion slinks to the door, glancing back often. Roy never is sure whether he realizes his wakefulness or not and the finality of Ed's soft "Goodbye" as he slips silently through the door is like an anvil dropped upon him.

It is said if you love them, let them go and Fuhrer Mustang supposes for the first time that he really does love Fullmetal and wonders at the dampness upon his cheek how it can possibly be raining inside.

**A/N: **Well there you have, by popular demand, part two. Generally, I stick to happy endings because I like them better But with this I just felt there was no way to get one without cheapening the emotions.


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